0650

General O'Neill kept to the side of the corridor, waiting for the medical team that had been summoned to rush past him at any moment. He chose to take it as good news – that SG-13 was still alive. That at least part of SG-13 was still alive.

Of course, it was entirely possible that the people sent to rescue them had been injured themselves, instead. So much for optimism, he thought. But when he stepped through the blast door into the Gate Room, it wasn't crowded with military men. Teal'c and Mitchell were nowhere to be seen. Captain Strong of SG-8, looking awfully woozy, stood on the ramp, supported by an SF and Doctor Daniel Jackson.

"Well," Jack announced. "You're not who I expected to see."

"Yeah. Uh, he slipped in one of the caverns near the city and whacked his head pretty hard." Handing the injured officer over to the medical team, Daniel headed down the ramp to talk to his former teammate. "I offered to bring him back. I... I wanted to check in on Sam. How is she?"

"Pluggin' along," he shrugged. Then, "Rathbone died."

He nodded. "They just told us. I swear, Jack, we've tried everything, but I just feel like... like we're not getting anywhere."

His reply was lost in the massive thump and whir as the Stargate began to spin up again. "Unscheduled offworld activation!" Walter's voice echoed through the PA.

"That's Teal'c," he said instead, stepping out of the way of the gurney as it rolled back toward the infirmary. "Go get checked out. Carter'll be glad to see you."

He stayed, even as the PA announced that the returning teams were under fire and called more Security Forces to the Gate Room. Stepping back to let the men do their jobs, he waited as the barrage of primitive arrows flew harmlessly through the Gate. He waited as SG-12 stepped through. Then Teal'c and Mitchell. His heart fell a little as the last member of SG-5 stepped through.

And then, for the longest moment, he could only stare open-mouthed at the final team to emerge. They were grungy, beaten up, but standing. "What the..."

Teal'c's eyes found his. "They are not ill, O'Neill."

"Get to the infirmary. Now," he ordered, then beat them out the door. This had to be good news, and Jack would be the one to break it to her. If only to see her smile.

~/~

0915

"Knock, knock!"

General O'Neill tugged back one edge of the curtain to admit Colonel Dixon into Carter's little space. "Dave. It's good to see you."

"Sir." The two exchanged a strong handshake before Dixon turned to Sam. "Hangin' in there, I hear."

His cavalier attitude had always made her smile. "That's me."

"The guys are still getting checked out. I figured I'd make the rounds while I wait. Might be good for morale."

"Oh, it is," she assured him. "Just the fact that you're not sick means so much. It means there's an answer. There's something that works, because I have no doubt you were exposed just like the rest of us. Something was different for your team, and once we pin that down – I mean, what you ate or drank or-"

"Carter," Jack interrupted, knowing that the wind-up was just beginning. "Take it easy. The doc is working on it."

"Sam?" This time, it was Daniel who tugged the divider aside. "Sorry, I had to wait for my sonogram. Good news – I'm still not a Goa'uld."

"Excellent."

When she said no more, he pressed, "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just apparently not allowed to talk anymore. It's too taxing. Just ask Jack."

Dixon chuckled at the spat as the general rubbed the bridge of his nose. Clearly, she didn't like being sidelined. To change the subject and get the hell out of Dodge, Dixon said, "As soon as the rest of the team's cleared, we're meeting in the Briefing Room. We'll get this hashed out."

The pat on the leg was intended as reassurance – a chummy move. But it sent both other members of SG-1 diving for him, and Jack's hand caught his just before contact. "Don't touch her." His voice was grave. "Don't touch any of them."

Taken aback, far more concerned than he'd been five minutes prior, the colonel nodded. "Got it. I'll see you upstairs."

"I'll stay with Sam," Daniel volunteered as the other man left.

Jack shook his head. "We need either you or Strong, and I hear he's waiting on a CT scan."

"I'm pretty sure I can survive on my own for an hour," the sick woman said dryly. "Really."

With a nod and a promise to return, the archaeologist ducked out. Jack sighed. "I'm sorry I cut you off. I'm just-"

"Hovering?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, well, I reserve the right." He'd always been terrible with words, relying on other forms of communication to get his feelings across. Small touches, holding hands, hugs... without them, he was lost. Finally, he contented himself with stroking the hair at her temple. "I'll be back."

She shrugged. "I'll be here."